


(not) thinking of you

by alittlebitoftheuniverse



Category: Falsettos - Lapine/Finn
Genre: Angst, M/M, takes place between act 1 and 2 i guess, they miss each other and won't admit it, this was just a prompt i got on tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 21:16:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13598565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlebitoftheuniverse/pseuds/alittlebitoftheuniverse
Summary: "The night we shared with spaces between us"Two men sit in apartments on opposite sides of the city, feeling miles away from any other human being. They sit, awake at an hour when any decent person would be asleep. They sit, feeling alone, thinking of what they might’ve lost, telling themselves they’re not hurt, that moving on will be easy.They think of how to move on, and they think of each other.





	(not) thinking of you

Marvin can’t sleep. Marvin hasn’t slept much at all lately. The apartment feels too big, has ever since he’d pulled Whizzer’s suitcase down from the closet shelf and shoved it into his arms. There’s an empty space in their bed, the place Whizzer usually occupies, sleeping sprawled out like he always does, limbs flung toward Marvin like he either wants to draw him closer or push him away, Marvin never could tell. He’d always complained about it, insisting he was going to roll right out of bed one of these days.

But now. Now the bed is too big, too empty, too cold, too everything for him to sleep. He tells himself it’s just an adjustment, he would feel like this no matter who it was. It has nothing to do with missing Whizzer. It’s just because he misses the warmth next to him.

Marvin tries not to think about him. Tries to convince himself that he isn’t thinking about him. He only paused by the florist’s on the way home from work out of habit, it had nothing to do with him forgetting for a moment that Whizzer wouldn’t be home for him to bring roses to. He just turned on the baseball game that evening because he was interested in the game, not because Whizzer would want to watch it. Of course not. It was just out of curiosity, what the big deal about this sport is. That’s all. It doesn’t have anything to do with him.

He can’t sleep, so he gets up, resigning himself to another night in front of the television, switching restlessly from channel to channel, looking for something mind-numbing enough to help him sleep. It never worked, but it helped pass the time. He passes the telephone on the way to his chair, pauses to look at it sat on the end table. He gets as far as picking it up, finger hovering over the number 2, Whizzer’s speed dial, still marked with an asterisk.

He doesn’t call.

0000

Whizzer can’t sleep. But then, he’s not trying. The man whose apartment he’s spending the night in is snoring so loudly Whizzer worries he might bring the walls down. He didn’t remember that last time, he must’ve slipped out when the guy was still sleeping. Not this time. He gets out of bed and heads to the tiny kitchen, where he can sit and look out the window while his tea steeps. He can’t see anything particularly spectacular from here, but he looks anyway.

He wouldn’t have chosen this seedy apartment as his ideal place to spend the night, but he doesn’t have much choice at the moment. He’s been couchsurfing, or worming his way into men’s beds when he can. It’s not ideal, but he’ll be able to find another apartment soon, his photography business has started to pick back up. He’ll land on his feet, he always does.

He’d started to hope maybe he wouldn’t have to this time, or at least not until a year or two had passed. He and Marvin had already made it nine months, only for him to be kicked out. Over a fucking chess game, of all things. Whizzer snorts in disgust, taking a sip of his tea, still hot enough to burn his tongue and make him blink hard. If that, after all the fighting and frustration, was what had tipped Marvin over the edge, then good riddance.

Part of him thinks maybe he should call. Maybe apologize. Marvin was easy to appease, as long as you were admitting he was right and you were wrong. It wasn’t that big of a deal, surely he’d forgive him for winning one game. Whizzer even gets up, goes for the phone, starts to dial. And then he remembers everything else. The snide comments, the sneers over nothing, the jealousy, the anger. He remembers being talked down to, being made to feel like shit over something as simple as starting dinner late.

He doesn’t call.

0000

Two men sit in apartments on opposite sides of the city, feeling miles away from any other human being. They sit, awake at an hour when any decent person would be asleep. They sit, feeling alone, thinking of what they might’ve lost, telling themselves they’re not hurt, that moving on will be easy.

They think of how to move on, and they think of each other.

They don’t call.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you guys liked this! You can come yell about falsettos with me on tumblr @childofdustandashes. Comments are my lifeblood!


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